Just a Day

When you are living in an area with a high population, there comes a point where pretty much every combination of anything is possible – some quite predictable and expected, others more unlikely but nonetheless just as valid.  I am fortunate enough to be open minded and take people as I find them, and indeed it seems they have taken me very much at face value too.

Only the other day I had taken a wander over to the nearest bin to dispose of an empty drink can, leaving the rest of my stuff in situ including a book which I was reading.  Upon my return a passer-by had taken an interest and that is how it came to be that a homeless guy had a long, meaningful and interesting conversation with a transvestite about the life, career, wit and wisdom of dearly departed broadcasting legend Sir Terry Wogan.  Such encounters seem to be little more than daily occurrences round here, and I am all for a bit of diversity in life…..

I've just been for a bit of a stroll, partly to get some fresh air through my lungs and some movement in what is today quite a painful leg, and partly seeking refreshment – all this authoring and staying chipper is hard work, especially when you literally carry the weight of your world on your shoulders.  There is an art installation at the shopping centre devoted to the art of relaxation and restful sleep.  I had a long and winding conversation with the artist who first conceived the idea as a coping mechanism for her insomnia.  It is lovely to be able to step back from art in its physical form and discover it at an embryonic stage.  For me, that is where the true art lies.

The whole experience got me to thinking about sleep on the streets; its elements are so totally different from a “normal” sleep environment that it is any wonder that I sleep at all and for so many homeless people it is possibly only the synthetic effect of various substances that affords them any sleep at all.